Chapter 7 - Epilogue

"Of all the elite units operating withnt the means of the Elven military industrial complex, the Angelwings are without a doubt the most elegant, beautiful, and complex. There is no question that they are mysterious as a whole, as their methods and tactics are kept perfectly secret from the rest of the military, but perhaps the most mysterious and intriguing part of the process is the surgery that occurs upon entrance. Even I have found a great deal of difficulty in researching this, but thanks to a young woman who broke into their ranks years ago, I have acquired enough information to speak upon this most interesting subject.

"How exactly the Angelwings surgeons and sorcerers commit this wonder is beyond anyone outside of their circle. When a new recruit is deemed worthy, he... or she, nowadays... goes under the knife for an operation that leaves hir forever changed. You see, the Angelwings serve largely as a figurehead unit, inspiring morale during times of peace and terror during times of war, and so they become the living embodiment of their namesake. When a recruit awakens after the operation, s/he will feel weak throughout the entire body, and experience a sense of helplessness that can hardly be put into words… the entire body is left paralyzed, kept alive only by astonishingly powerful sorcery.

“ The girl who spoke to me of the process, a woman of amazing toughness and emotional endurance, was moved to tears by the recollection. For three days after that she lived in isolation, staying within a perfectly white room where various officers spoke to her of duty, loyalty, but most importantly, of respect for the living and the service that they perform. Without these things, a warrior is only a killer, she told me. I smile even now when I think of her candor, and how those words came from her heart instead of from their teachings.

“At the end of the third day, she began to regain feeling in her body, but something seemed off. The entire recovery period had been spent within the aforementioned white chamber, a room written so heavily with enchanting runes that the walls seemed to glow in alabaster. She had been suspended in the air by those spells, and now that her body had been written with their knowledge, she herself fight lighter, as if buoyed by the very air. But something still registered strangely in her mind. And odd weight on her back, though slight, kept her attention for hours until she was at last allowed a look in a mirror.

“Though I hope you understand that this essay has been a purely scholarly document, I feel that an eyewitness account of sorts is necessary to properly explain this milestone in Elven society. Therefore, I have asked one Alessandra Li’litei to add a passage to this dissertation. It is as follows.

“When I woke up, I felt warm, all over. I felt strong, and sure of myself, but I didn’t know why. Not for a moment, anyway, until I closed my eyes. It was then that I saw through the eyes of my host, Li’litea. I saw the ivory wings of sleek feather stretching outwards from her back. I cried. I cried for a good thirty minutes, at how beautiful she had become with those wings, how ecstatic her smile had become. Her heart flowed over with a happiness that I couldn’t quite comprehend. She had become an Angelwing, the first woman ever to take place in that honored group, and it was the best day of her life.

“Magic flowed through her body, too. It had to have been fifty enchantments, woven into the very fiber of our being. Her body was lifted by air magic, strengthened, her sense of grace and balance heightened… and then she was issued a uniform. It’s an interesting thing, the Angelwing uniform, a windproof material designed for ease of mobility. It is perfectly skintight, and matched to the color of the wearers skin, which gives the illusion of a naked person who lacks genitalia or nipples. Of course one could still note her breasts, but by all accounts she seemed to lack gender definition. She was given an enchanted long bow that needed no arrows, given a hefty purse of gold for her forthcoming service, and allowed passage onto the other planes whenever she wanted… though I think that was just something she requested. She was a different girl, but mostly in one respect… where she’d fought to become an Angelwing for herself, for some reason, her heart beat only for those around her, for her family and friends, for me, for you. She is a true angel, now.”

--Alessandra Li’litea

“Before she went on active duty, Li’litea Li’litei was allowed a week to organize her life and get used to her new body. One day passes before the new nerve attachments can fully function, and it takes about another day for the brain to figure out the wings. On the third day, Li’litea actually disappeared for a little while and did not return until one day before her assignment was to be given out. The military had panicked, thinking that she had betrayed Emesule or something idiotic like that, but when she returned her smile held far more confidence than before. Whatever demons had followed her heart after her coming of age, she had beaten them back. To this day only her Eschel knows what errand drew her into the lands of humans, and though she may have told this old historian, I did not ask. Such is not the purpose of my writings.

“Since this incident, the Angelwings have become a more public organization and, while the member list remains short, it has begun to open its eyes to all those who would risk their lives to protect their homelands. Day by day Emesule as a whole becomes more tolerant of its women and their ambitions, and this is entirely thanks to the efforts of people such as Alen’frea Sanenique and Li’litea Li’litei, and the wisdom of men such as Halaka Vhor’hador, who did not feel threatened by them.”

--Gongsun Yue, A Dissertation on Alvish Society

Rebecca Connely gave a long, dutiful sigh as she turned the ‘open’ sign in the tavern window to its other side, letting the thirsty masses know that last call had come and gone. Another night of raucous carousal was complete, and now she could kick back and share a mug of beer with her father and her husband Derek, who had busied himself by entertaining their one-year-old son for the last hour or so. A handsome boy he would make, as thankfully, young Hunter had inherited his looks from his mother.

She was just about to turn up her mug when a light tapping sounded at the door.

“We’re closed,” she called to whoever it was, but the tapping continued. Sighing a long, weary breath, Rebecca pulled open the door and prepared to lecture whomever it was that possessed the stones to knock upon her tavern door at sunrise. “What in…”

“Becca, what’s wrong?” Derek called from his seat near the bar, but Rebecca barely heard him. She stared into the darkness, her eyes fixed upon a sight that she could not even begin to explain.

“Christ, it’s an angel…” she murmured, staring off into the sky as the winged woman gradually faded into the hazy distance. So entranced was she that she hardly even noticed the bulging sack of golden coins lying at her feet until some time later.

“An angel, eh?” Derek glanced through the door, slipping his arm around her waist and chuckling. “I think you’ve already had enough to drink, my love.” Rebecca glanced at him, her eyes cool with half-formed tears, but she smiled anyway.

“Yes, you’re probably right,” she agreed, rewarding his jest with a gentle, affectionate kiss. “Go on,” she laughed, playfully pushing him aside, “your son is crying for you.”

That night, once the celebration at finding such a wealth of treasure on their very doorstep, Rebecca Locksley wrote an entry in her diary that she kept a secret from everyone, including her family, until the day she passed away. It told of a woman, white of hair and skin, with wings so flawless that one could not even see them, until life found her worthy. From that day forward, she knew that she, Rebecca Locksley Connely, was worthy of the grace of at least one beautiful angel.